


Old and Newer Futures

by bansheenanigans



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Epistolary, F/F, Grey Wardens, Inquisition Timeline, Multiple Wardens, Pet Names, Romantically Dramatic Wardens are my new calling card, Vague Zevran/Surana mentions, Warden writes letters to Leliana, mild canon deviation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 04:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheenanigans/pseuds/bansheenanigans
Summary: "As it is, I admire Amell women for their ability to disappear completely and utterly infuriate the good Seeker."Warden Amell and Leliana write letters while Amell and Surana search for a cure to the Calling, and the events of Inquisition just kind of happen to be happening at the same time.





	Old and Newer Futures

My dearest Nightingale,  
It is laboriously boring on the road without your songs, my love. It has been so long since I heard your voice that even my dreams of you have started to quiet. For the record, no desire demon could ever hope to emulate your wonders, though it is occasionally interesting to see them try. It is torture, it truly is. But I must do this. I pray with all I have that this journey will bear fruit, and not too late, so that I may return to your arms before we are both too old to enjoy it. I would enjoy loving you if all I was was a shriveled old hag, of course, and if you were one too, but there are bonuses to youth. There is time, in youth, and as always, it’s time that I search for. It takes all I have each morning not to turn back, ride to our home and keep you there, mine and always mine. What a terrible thing to want, isn’t it? I’d steal you away from the world, my beautiful bride. Oh, the hero witch, she has gone mad, stealing our good Sister away! In all the world, I wish only that. May all of our history fall away, and I will be your bride and you will be mine, and no law nor god could tear us apart.  
I suppose I’m getting too dramatic again. It must be this weather. It is the stuff of pirate tales, I swear (speaking of pirates, do you remember Isabela? Zevran’s Isabela? Surana swears she saw her some weeks ago, in a nameless port to the east, but it could have just been her imagination, or missing her husband and the olden days). We’ve been at a snail’s pace these past weeks from storms. The caravan we're traveling with is sick of it, but you know, I’ve always loved the rain. Lovely folks. Looking for a new life, far away from the mage and templar war. I told them I was looking for the same. It’s the truth, of course. I was never a very good liar.  
Of course, I’m rambling, and I know you worry, so I’ll cut short.  
I know the Divine’s Conclave draws near, my love. Justinia will need you more than ever. And as selfish as I am, Thedas needs this fighting to end. I will not steal away the Divine’s Left Hand in an hour of need. Immediately after that hour, though, I hope. Immediately after and forevermore.  
As always, the drop for your reply is encoded below, and Surana says hello, of course, and asks that you give Schmooples the second a kiss for her.   
I remain ever yours, as long as you’ll have me.  
Your Shrike

My Shrike,  
When you return home to me, I’ll sing for a year and a day, so you never forget my voice again, does that seem fair? And I must disagree, I think it would be more likely that Fereldan would cry out in protest that a former Orlesian bard would steal away their Hero, their beloved Warden-Commander. Perhaps we shall be hero and villain both, when you return. A perfectly conflicting ending for us. I long for it. You’ve infected me with your dramatics, love, but I won’t deny your letter made me laugh. Laughter has been so scarce these days.   
If Saski saw Isabela, I have no doubt that she is long gone now. A shame, we’ve recently questioned an associate of hers. Have you or Surana ever heard of a Varric Tethras, love? He is a friend of your cousin Hawke’s, and her lover Anders. It seems that the rebellious streak as well as magic is strong in your family. We did not find your cousin, or Anders. In truth, we found no one other than Varric, and he’ll tell his tale to the Divine in a few days if Cassandra gets her way. They’re safe for now, and if they’re wise, they’ll likely seek shelter elsewhere. Perhaps you’ll even meet up with them on your journey. Though it would be best not to write it if you do, for they are still both wanted by the Chantry.   
Of course, so are you, in a sense. Cassandra is still angry that we could not find you to lead once more, or convince you to leave Surana behind in your stead, and if she knew that you have been sending me these letters, as well concealed as they are, she would likely angrier still. But I know you have your quest. And I have mine, now. While it would have been good to have you here, to save Fereldan with you again, I would rather have you with me when we are old and gray, with no Calling to threaten our peace. As it is, I admire Amell women for their ability to disappear completely and utterly infuriate the good Seeker. It is surely some form of magic, one I wish you could teach my scouts.   
I pray you return to me soon. These are difficult times, and I always feel ready to face anything at your side. I await our good future, my love. We’ll have a happy ending, one day soon.  
The Conclave begins tomorrow, so it may be some time before I can write again. Be safe, wherever you may be headed. Tell my future sister-in-law I gave Schmooples the Second many kisses before I left, for the both of you.   
Always and Ever,  
Your Nightingale 

My Nightingale,  
I heard word through refugees that the Conclave has exploded, and it is hard not to see the scarred skies, even as far away as I find myself. I thought, for brief moment, that I had died as I heard the news, until I heard the gossip of ‘heretical former sisters’ and a brilliant spymaster. It does not take much to put the two together and produce you, to know that you are alright. Perhaps it is lucky that I was barred by the snowy mountains, for the harshness of nature is the only thing that kept me from being at your feet this very second. The only mercy for me is that you live, and I am so sorry for the cruelty of that. My love, my Leliana, my bright star, please, for me, keep your heart open. I cannot fathom how the loss of Justinia will have hurt you, and I cannot bear the thought of you shouldering that loss alone. Please, always look to the southern sky, and know that I am still here. I will come back to you. You have to promise me, love. You have to promise me to always look to the light. You have a mind and a spine made of the strongest and quickest magic, my love, and I know that this Inquisition will need you. But remember that you can be careful and kind, even in the darkest of times.   
I love you wholly and faithfully, and always will,  
Your (Worried) Shrike

My Nightingale,  
I have not received word back from you since my last letter, and I am beginning to worry that my bird never made it to Haven. He certainly never returned, and I can only assume some starving Avvar found Ser Parsnip an unfulfilling snack.   
If not, perhaps this Inquistion has kept you busy, and I am simply too worrisome and impatient. We embark on a perilous leg of the journey in the morning, and as I spent this last evening in an inn at the border, I succumb to my own fears.   
This Inquisition, it’s unlike anything I know. It’s on the lips of so many, it’s as if they taunt me. I regret staying away when you told me that I was wanted. If I had stayed, if I had helmed this… Well. Let’s be honest with each other, my love. The Chantry wanted Warden-Commander Amell, the hero, the slayer of the Archdemon. They did not want Corrine Amell, the mage, the tired and dying woman. They wanted the fiction that you and I and the others spun so carefully, the rumors that made me sound half righteous, half vengeful. The only people who have ever wanted me for me have scattered to the winds, are here to cast worried looks over my shoulder, or long since died. All I desire is to be Corrine Amell, with you as my wife, in our house on the Waking Sea. But if you need me, if you truly need me, you know where to find me. And I will come back. I will find some way to come back, always.   
I love you desperately and foolishly, my Nightingale.  
Your Shrike


End file.
